


HOW TO CARE FOR YOUR MODERN ROCKSTAR, IDOL-RUNNER UP EDITION, v.8

by amproof



Category: American Idol
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amproof/pseuds/amproof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is the most confused sub ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HOW TO CARE FOR YOUR MODERN ROCKSTAR, IDOL-RUNNER UP EDITION, v.8

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [](http://goseaward.livejournal.com/profile)[**goseaward**](http://goseaward.livejournal.com/). Originally [posted](http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/6425.html?thread=7123737#t7123737) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/profile)[**aianonlovefest**](http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/).

  
  
  
  
---  
  
"Mr. Lambert?"

Adam looked over at Ms. Collins, Simon's head of household, and wiped sweat out of his eyes. "Yeah?" He had been running on the treadmill for forty-five minutes. He was impressed he was capable of speech at all, even monosyllabic speech.

"That's enough running, I think."

Ms. Collins, despite the whole formal thing she had going--calling people by their surnames and insisting on the same from them, and delivering her sentences so that even the questions came out declaratively--was only twenty-three. Even though she acted like she had a bug up her ass, Adam knew for a fact that if you put a few glasses of wine in her, she'd hop up on a table and not come down until she had a waistband full of dollar bills.

He also knew that the number one rule of Simon Cowell's household was DO NOT MESS WITH MS. COLLINS. So, Adam turned the treadmill off and got his ass off it. She waited until he had wiped his face with a towel before she spoke again.

"Mr. Parker has prepared your bath."

"Thank you," he said. He smiled so she would know that he knew what to do now, and he was going to do it. No need for her to stand around waiting.

She nodded and excused herself. Dropping the towel into the hamper next to the exercise bike, Adam made his way towards the master bathroom. Simon's household ran like none Adam had ever known. Everyone in it had a purpose, and everyone bustled around carrying out that purpose as if nothing outside the house existed--family, friends, new films--nothing. Adam had moved in three months earlier, a fact that still shocked him when he gave himself time to think about it.

He hadn't seen or spoken to Simon since Idol, but when they both happened to be at an industry party, they'd gotten to talking. Well, Adam had. He was talking a mile a minute about the tour and life on the road, the fans, hardly stopping to breathe, not because he thought Simon would think it was that interesting, but because the man still made him nervous, and when Adam got nervous, he talked. Simon did stand and act like he was listening, though, which was surprising. One thing led to another (aka Adam had no idea what happened but people put that phrase to all kinds of nefarious uses, so he figured it was his turn) and he wound up in bed with Simon Cowell. Which was...weird. Even weirder was that there was no fucking. There wasn't even kissing. Simon undressed him, though, and tumbled him into bed. Then Simon tucked up behind him still fully clothed, cheek to cheek and one hand splayed over Adam's belly.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself."

Adam shifted, embarrassed. Simon wasn't svelte either, but he was jerk enough to tell a guy to his face that he was a porker. "I've gained a pound or two on the road. It's hard to--"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Simon said. "You're tired. I can tell that your head isn't on straight. There's too much going on. You need someone to see to it that you're getting what you need."

"And you'd do that?"

Adam had meant it as a joke. Really.

So when Simon said yes, he was so stunned that he said O.K.

#

He moved in on his next extended break from tour. It wasn't _that_ simple, of course. There were conversations beforehand. Ground rules, expectations, all that jazz. It boiled down to this: Adam was agreeing to let Simon attend to his personal needs until such time as Adam was capable (read: responsible, attentive and willing) to handle them himself or until Adam decided that he did not want Simon to attend to his personal needs and told him so, thus ending the arrangement and moving out on good terms; or until both Simon and Adam mutually agreed that the arrangement needed to end, at which point Adam could stay or go. Adam wasn't sure why under the second possibility he had to leave, but figured that maybe if he decided he didn't want Simon's help and Simon disagreed, there was a chance Simon might try to make him take a nap or something if he was still around.

When Adam told Brad about it, Brad produced a 'Dominant and Submissive' contract from his dresser (Adam didn't ask) that had fewer rules. "Honey, he's going to _own_ you. Do you know what you're getting into?"

"It's not official," Adam said, and Brad just raised an eyebrow and made his "ooh, girl" face. Adam rolled his eyes, but caved a little.

"Can I have a safeword?" Adam asked Simon, calling him from Brad's with Brad looking on.

"I'm not going to be tying you up, Adam," Simon said. "What the bloody hell do you need a safeword for? We've already agreed that you can end the arrangement whenever you want."

"I know, but...what if I just need to talk about what's going on?"

"Then we'll talk. Talking is definitely fine. All right?"

"Yeah. O.K. But, if you do decide to tie me up..." He ignored Brad's dropped jaw.

"I'll ask first and then you can have a safeword."

"O.K." He hung up and turned to Brad. "It's cool."

Brad just shook his head. "You better hope so."

Adam's mom called an hour later and told him that she'd just gotten home. Simon had sent a car to bring her to his house. He'd told her everything and she thought it was a good idea, if it was what Adam wanted. "I worry about you, honey," she said.

Adam was so stunned that Simon would go to this measure to get his mother's approval that he didn't realize until after he'd hung up that Simon was probably with Leila when he was talking with Adam, which meant she had heard the conversation. And even after that, she had still thought it was a good idea, which meant Adam was probably worse at taking care of himself than he'd thought. He reached over Brad to pour himself another fifth of vodka and thought about that as he looked at the television and marveled at all the things the Magic Bullet could do.

Simon gave him his own room, which had confused Adam at first. Surely sex was heavily implied in this scenario? It wasn't like Simon was _adopting_ him. But Simon had said that sometimes people needed privacy; however, Adam should consider Simon's bed his, as much as he wanted to. Adam didn't sleep there every night, but when he did, Simon wrapped around him and it was nice. Adam wasn't used to being the one who was held. He could see why people liked it.

At first he didn't understand how the household worked. There were people for the kitchen, for the general living area, for the offices and at any given time one of them might bring Adam a sandwich and glass of water, turn up with a freshly pressed shirt and polished shoes or inform him that a bath was waiting. Sometimes they handed him a bottle of sunscreen, a baseball, and a dog and pointed at the backdoor, which was standing open. The first time, it took Adam a few seconds to figure out what they were hinting at there, but when he came back inside from running around in the sun he did feel pretty good. That they interrupted whatever Adam was doing, no matter how important (watching Lord of the Rings on Simon's studio apartment-sized flat screen was totally important) took some getting used to.

"Do you know how bossy your staff is?" he asked Simon one night after he'd been threatened into pajamas by Mr. Parker and had hot cocoa thrust upon him in a Star Wars mug shaped like Chewie's head by Mrs. Walnough (head of kitchen) and had a blanket, fresh from the dryer, draped over him by Ms. Collins. He yawned. He was sleepy now and he'd planned on staying up to watch television until at least two, but it was barely ten. At this rate, he wouldn't last until eleven.

Simon was in his easy chair, feet up, reading the London Times, which of course he had a subscription to, and it even arrived on the day it was printed instead of a week late, which was how bookstores got it. Adam suspected that he had a guy who flew it over, but he didn't ask. Simon lowered the paper and stared at Adam for a long minute.

Adam sipped his hot chocolate--there were chocolate sprinkles(!!) and marshmallows on top and the faint hint of cinnamon and chili powder--and tried to keep a serious face on when he wanted to close his eyes and moan from the deliciousness of it.

"Adam, why are you here?" Simon asked.

"Uh." Adam blinked at him. Shit. Simon sat there like one of those teachers who called on the clueless kid and then waited until the doofus came up with something while the rest of the class rolled their eyes and Cindy Johnson sat in the front row waving her stupid tiny hand trying to get called on so she could give the correct answer and then turn around and stick her stupid tongue out at the original sap who dared to let his mind wander during a monotone reading of a shit-tastic text book written in like 1975 or some other stone age period before technology was invented. Not that Adam knew from experience or anything. He thought hard. "Um." All the way back to the party and coming home with Simon...and... "I don't take care of myself?"

"Exactly," Simon said. "You are here to be cared for because you've been botching that up, haven't you?"

"Uh." Simon raised his eyebrows and not in the 'Wow, you can really sing' way, so Adam amended his answer to "I guess, maybe." He had started to sink down into the couch cushions with his blanket, but he made himself sit up. "But your staff is still bossy."

"Your job is to be cared for," Simon said, speaking slowly. "My job is to make sure you are cared for. If that means you get told 'no' every now and then--"

"All the time," Adam said.

"--so that you can be guided towards an activity more necessary to your comfort and well-being than..." He waved a hand as if he were swatting ideas. "...exercising yourself to exhaustion or not eating enough or staying up to all hours to watch infomercials, then that's just part of it."

"But the staff is doing everything," Adam said. "You said you would take care of me."

For a moment, Simon looked honestly puzzled. Then his face cleared and he sighed as if the weight of explaining things to someone so thick was more than he deserved to put up with and there had better be a mansion in Heaven for him. "They work for me. It's called delegating responsibility."

That got Adam's hackles up. "So now I'm a responsibility? Thanks a lot."

"Oh, calm down. I didn't mean it like that. There are duties in this house that are clearly divided. There are things we each need that are done by certain people. The same people who make your food make it for me. The same people who turn down my bed turn down yours. The only difference is I don't need to be told when to eat or sleep. I can't always be here to tell you, so it's less stress on you if the staff tells you all the time. They're acting under my instructions, so it's like I'm telling you. And at the end of the day, I get to hold you. Feeling comfort and protection is a big part of a healthy psyche, too. That's something that I wouldn't delegate."

For a moment, Adam had a vision of the staff taking shifts in his bed. It was not a pleasant image. Ms. Collins would bring her clipboard, he had no doubt, and he didn't think Mr. Parker ever took his bow tie off.

"It's a perfect system, Adam. All your needs are taken care of."

"Not all of them," Adam said, challenging. If not for a few hook ups on the road, he'd have a major case of blue balls right now.

"All your needs _will_ be taken care of," Simon amended. "You just have to trust me."

"Fine," Adam said. He felt like sulking, but it was hard to do when his head was barely poking out of the blanket and he had a dog curled up at his feet and a warm mug in his hands. Simon smiled at him and went back to reading.

The next day, the doorbell rang and no one answered it. On the third ring, Adam got up from his computer, where he was online chatting with Kris, and went to the door. He looked around before he opened it, fully expecting Ms. Collins to jump out at him with her omnipresent clipboard, but he was alone. He opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Jason," said the adorable tiny man standing in front of him. He was wearing a wife beater under a plaid button up, fitted blue jeans and sandals.

"Hi," Adam said after a second because _damn_.

"I'm supposed to give you this." Jason pushed an envelope at him.

"Thanks." Adam started to close the door, expecting that Jason would leave now, but he just stood there smiling and kind of humming to himself, so Adam left it open and turned away slightly so he could see what was in the envelope.

It was a small stack of papers. The first was a note. _"I don't bottom.--S"_ Ohh kay. Adam recognized Simon's scribble, but what did that have to do with-- "Report of Sexual Health" said the next page. Oh. Adam glanced up at Jason, who smiled brightly, and then back down at the remaining papers, which outlined in great detail just how fantastically healthy Jason was. The last page was a copy of a receipt, made out for one thousand dollars and signed by someone Adam didn't even know. He looked at Jason again.

"You're..."

"All yours for the next two hours." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's go, time's a-wastin'."

Well. Just try to argue with logic like that. Adam had Jason naked before they were up the stairs. The staff was mysteriously gone--yeah, right--but Adam was thankful nonetheless, even if they did all know he was getting his freak on. There was a brief moment of indecision as Adam stumbled over which bedroom to take him into. He settled on his own because even though it would have been amazing to throw Jason all over Simon's king-size, it felt wrong. A queen-size was good enough. He pushed Jason inside, shut the door, shucked his pants and went for the lube, only for Jason to say, "No need," stick two fingers inside himself and pull them out already slicked. "Just fuck me."

"Romantic talk always turns me on," Adam said, and dove onto the bed, right into Jason's arms. He pushed in without preamble, easing in slowly to accommodate Jason's gasps and wide eyes and "so big baby, God, so big," which was a total line, but whatever, they had two hours yet, so Adam grinned at him and fucked deeper, knowing that before time was up, Jason's shudders wouldn't be performance art.

Jason ended up staying three hours and leaving with a limp and a smile.

When Simon came home that night, Adam was still so wobbly (four orgasms, which he hadn't known was possible) that he didn't even care that Simon was looking even more smug than usual. Simon actually sat on the couch while he made his nightly business calls, so Adam snuggled up against his leg, fighting for space with the dog that was trying to get a spot, too, and fell asleep with Simon's arm around him, listening to Simon yell at somebody in Australia about something or another. It was oddly soothing. Maybe it was the accent.

He woke up when Simon nudged him. "Come on. Time for bed."

"I'm already sleeping."

"Bed time in bed. Come on." Simon started to pull him, so Adam sleepily let him. "Which room?"

"Yours," Adam said, leaning on him as Simon tried to get him to walk. He rolled his head against Simon's neck. "Want you to fuck me."

Simon went still. "Say that again."

Adam pulled back, blinking but aware. "I want you to fuck me, Simon." He put his hand on Simon's chest, rubbed him through his stupid sweater.

"O.K.," Simon said after a minute, and Adam smiled. It felt like the perfect ending to a perfect day. He didn't usually like to be fucked. The idea of it made him tense, but he wasn't going to get more relaxed than he was right now and he needed something extra, and he knew that it was something only Simon could give him, and this was how he wanted it.

He smiled lazily as Simon spilled him onto the bed and pushed Adam's hands away so that Simon could get Adam's clothes off himself, staring down at him as if it were new, even though they'd been naked together lots of times. Adam thought it was funny, but then it was his turn to undress Simon and it turned out that it did make a difference when sex was in the picture. Simon turned him onto his side and laid down behind him, pushed his leg up and worked him open with lube and fingers as he kissed his neck and asked him if he was O.K. until Adam kissed him just to shut him up, which was when Simon put his cock in. Adam gasped and sucked the breath right out of Simon's mouth, but he fed it back to him on the next exhale. Simon rubbed his stomach with soft, sure strokes until Adam relaxed against his back. He let himself go limp as Simon started to move. Adam didn't get hard, but he hadn't expected to. He felt good, though, like a warm little spot in his belly that came from having Simon doing all the things he did to make sure Adam was cared for.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything."

Then Simon was squeezing him tighter, both arms around him and clamping down on his shoulder with his lips stretched over his teeth and coming. He pulled out as soon as his shaking stopped, but spent another minute pressed against Adam. "You deserve it," he said. He brushed a kiss behind Adam's ear, and Adam ducked his head because it tickled and also possibly because he might have been blushing. Simon got him up and into the bathroom next and took the 'caring' thing a bit further than Adam would have thought necessary when he bent Adam over the sink and checked him for tearing, but it turned out there was a little damage so he put some ointment on it and Adam had to admit to himself that maybe Simon did know how to take care of him.

Over the next three months, Simon had made sure that a boy turned up every week. It was always someone different, which was how Adam figured out that Simon loved him. If he didn't, he wouldn't care if Adam got attached. Simon did ask once if Adam wanted any repeat visits, but Adam had figured it out by then and said no, which had made Simon happy enough that he'd let Adam blow him in the living room, even though the staff wasn't pre-warned.

Mrs. Walnough's face as she backed out of the room with a tray of cookies kept Adam amused for days.

Adam wasn't sure where Simon was getting sex, since he'd only turned his ass over three other times, but Simon didn't talk about it and he didn't act like a man having an affair, so it was fine. He liked giving Simon blowjobs, though, so that probably took some edge off...if Simon had an edge; Adam wasn't sure how a fifty-year-old man's libido compared to someone his age.

#

The bath that Mr. Parker had prepared for him prior to Ms. Collins chasing him off the treadmill was just below scalding when Adam lowered himself into it. Candles were lit around the edge. Adam dipped below the bubbles to wet his hair. He reached for the gel soap and jerked off beneath the water, watching with sleepy interest as his come seemed to float away. He washed his hair next and then rested a bit longer before using the remaining bubbles to clean his body. One last dunk, this time holding his breath and counting before he burst back up on fifty-five-one-thousand. He opened his eyes wide and his mouth and saw Simon standing there in his black t-shirt that still existed even though Adam had thrown it out, stuffed it into his tricks' duffel bags, run over it with the car, and attacked it with scissors. He knew Simon had a secret stash of hundreds, but he was determined to end them all.

For now, though, he said, "Hey," and leaned up so Simon could kiss him. Simon pulled a towel off the warmer and held it out.

"Come on, out before you turn into a prune." He shook the towel. Adam stood up, water rushing off him. Simon wrapped him up, hugged him for a few seconds, and then guided Adam out of the tub to stand on the warm carpet--Simon's floor had its own heating. Adam stood as Simon dried him, spinning around when Simon indicated and only fussing a little when Simon went at his hair with a hand towel instead of a blow dryer.

When Simon finally finished, three wet towels were tossed onto the floor, but Adam was only naked for a moment before Simon was helping him into a robe and kissing him gently. "I know I'm supposed to be taking care of you," he said, "but I want you to know you've done wonders for me."

Adam laid his head on Simon's shoulder. "I know," he said, as that warm, welcome feeling that was becoming more and more familiar rose up in him. "And you're welcome."

The End


End file.
